Walk in the rain,
smell flowers,
smell flowers,
stop along the way,
build sandcastles,
go on field trips,
find out how things work,
tell stories,
say the magic words,
trust the universe.
– Bruce Williamson,
Founder of the Society
A few days ago,
I hung the poem above,
printed on white canvas,
in my home office.
It made me wonder
how many years it had been
since I’d walked in the rain.
Tonight, as if on cue,
I got the chance
to try it again.
The sky opened up
without warning.
A few sprinkles at first,
and then a downright downpour.
I automatically started running,
trying quickly to reach my car,
until I remembered the poem.
I was already drenched,
already on my way home.
So, I stopped running
and sauntered
through the parking lot,
feeling the raindrops
spill down my shirt,
cover my face,
soak my hair.
Cold, glorious, wonderful rain.
I was actually laughing
when I got in my car,
soaking wet
and happy to just be.
(Picture of downtown
through a raindrop-covered windshield)
